


Sirius

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 05:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15089750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis works and attends his fish.





	Sirius

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for peasantwhy’s “how about Noctis as a goldfish being tested in zero-gravity by Astronaut Ignis for how well fish respond to zero-gravity environments? bonus Prompto as the ship's computer and Gladiolus as the algae in Noct's fish-bowl” suggestion [on my tumblr.](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Though Ignis’ assignment is a lonely one, he rarely regrets accepting the job. The emptiness, at least, provides him plenty of time to devote to his studies, both creatively and scientifically. By his second year in orbit, he’s come up with seventy-three new pasta recipes that should make for a best seller when he next lands. He’s also collected invaluable information on the twelve other planets in their system, obtained absolutely awe-inspiring recordings of a relatively nearby pulsar, and developed what he hopes will prove a viable modification to existing automobiles that will enable flight. At the moment, he’s monitoring his newly engineered edible algae modeled after various samples from the archaeplastida family. The enormous aquarium mounted on the far-right wall is full it. Thus far, it’s thriving, and hasn’t caused any noticeable adverse effects to his beloved fish. Of course, he tested it in a small aquarium first—he would never have put Noctis in danger without reasonable assurances.

The last step is actually _naming_ the new species, and for that, Ignis pauses. Shifting back from his writing desk, he glances out the large, circular viewport at his side. The view beyond it is staggering—every bit as brilliant as it was the first time Ignis saw it. The vast expanse of _space_ , lit up with its billions of stars, never loses its appeal. Outside the artificial gravity of his shuttle, the universe drifts peacefully about, and it brings him peace to look at it. 

It gives him the inspiration he needs, and he writes ‘ _gladiolus_ ’ down as a possible name. It doesn’t _quite_ fit in with the other, surrounding classifications, but it suffices as a working title.

 _“Supper time for his highness!”_ the computer suddenly chirps, startling Ignis out of his reverie. The cheery voice gets him every time. That colloquial tone is a new addition that will definitely take some getting used to. But he did tell control that he wouldn’t mind a computer with more _personality_ , and he, unfortunately, wasn’t careful what he wished for.

Despite the lackadaisical wording, the warning is effective. Ignis immediately retires his current paper, drifting instead across the small, sterile white room. It only takes a few leaping steps to land there—he keeps the gravity light so he doesn’t lose _all_ the mysticism of humanity’s early space adventures. It gives the aqua blue water of the tank a strange, globular quality, and the small pocket of zero gravity air at the top does tend to make the feeding process a little difficult. Ignis keeps meaning to reconfigure the settings. But Noctis is a very picky fish—as far as black moor goldfish go—and Ignis never likes to mess with his home too much at once.

Sure enough, Noctis is currently sulking in the bottom right corner, hovering inside the hollowed out castle that likely gave the computer the idea for Noctis’ title. Noctis tends to get like that when Ignis neglects to give him extra attention, and thus the computer is set to monitor his movement and vitals. Sure enough, Noctis’ amber eyes peer up at Ignis almost accusingly, and Ignis finds himself murmuring, “My apologies. I was caught up in my work.”

Noctis quite clearly doesn’t care. Ignis doesn’t bore him with the details. The food is kept in a small dispenser that Ignis has to press through the circular hatch near the top of the aquarium. The tank itself is set to dispense the required nutrients if not interacted with long enough: if Ignis should meet a sudden, unexpected death whilst still in orbit, he wants to be sure that Noctis will be taken care of. But he prefers to do the actual feeding himself, because then he can experiment with healthier recipes, and besides, it gives them bonding time.

He knows what his uncle would say to that. But his uncle’s never spent two years in space with no one but a goldfish for company, so Ignis dismisses his theoretical judgment.

As the little flecks dance out into the air bubble, Noctis twitches out of his hole, before swimming up with startling speed. Then he leaps right out of the water, snatching at the food before propelling himself back down with his sleek set of fins. Usually he waits for the food to simply catch on the water and melt beneath the surface, regulated by the tank’s internal water flow system, but tonight, he fetches his own food. Ignis watches, surprised and thoroughly impressed, as Noctis navigates the air with grace and ease. He’s never out of the water long enough to suffer, and when he’s had his fill, he drifts back down and resumes swimming back and forth across the tank like any good goldfish. The computer chimes, “His royal highness seems satisfied, Specs.”

Ignis distractedly corrects, “Ignis.”

“Sorry. Erasing secondary name parameters.”

Ignis isn’t listening. He’s just discovered his next study—how aquatic craniate species adapt to zero gravity environments. He’s sure it’ll be riveting.

And it’ll give him more time with Noctis, so Ignis promptly sets about relocating his desk and finishing up with gladiolus.


End file.
